British director
Joe Wright has fulfilled the promise he exhibited
with 2005’s Pride and Prejudice
with his helming of the lushly gorgeous Atonement.
Set in 1935 during the start of World War II,
the story is awash in class struggle, jealousy,
repression and sexuality.

Thirteen year old
Briony (Saoirse Ronan) is an aspiring writer and
a child of privilege. Born into the upper class
of England, Briony lives with her parents and
older sister Cecilia (Keira Knightley) in a story
book country house. And in what should have been
one glorious day spent in the beautiful English
countryside, Briony misinterprets a series of
events and ruins the lives of her sister and her
sister’s secret lover, the house keeper’s
son Robbie (James McAvoy).

The English class
caste system was in a state of flux in 1935 and
Robbie’s aspiring to romance Cecilia was
emblematic of the coming changes in class structure.
Robbie had been sent to Cambridge as a scholarship
student at the same time that Cecelia had been
away at Cambridge.

On that fateful day, the hottest day of the year,
Robbie accidentally breaks a vase, a piece of
which falls into a fountain. Cecelia is furious
about the loss of the vase and strips to her underwear
and dives into the fountain to retrieve the missing
piece and emerges sopping wet and for all purposes
naked. The stripping, diving and emerging are
observed by the jealous and naive Briony who misinterprets
both this and a series of other overheated events
that occur that same day.

The next part of
the film is set during World War II. Robbie, whose
prospects for professional success and love have
been ruined by Briony’s lies, is in France
fighting the Germans. The English have been routed
and are waiting at Dunkirk to be rescued in a
scene that echoes Dante’s Inferno.
Both Cecelia and Briony are working as nurses
in London. Briony has come to her senses and realized
what a horrible sin she committed when she was
a naïve, class-conscious, thirteen-year-old,
know-it-all. Briony desperately wants her sister
and Robbie to forgive her, but the lives she ruined
have become Humpty Dumpties and nothing she can
do can put them back together again.

In the last segment
we see the now dying Briony (Vanessa Redgrave),
a successful novelist at the end of her life,
being interviewed for a television show. And we
learn that Briony’s entire life has been
spent wishing for a forgiveness/atonement that
has never come.

And as for the
cast:The multi-talented Keira Knightly (the Pirate
movies and Wright's Pride and Predjudice)
is stunningly beautiful as Cecelia. Her scenes
with James McAvoy explode with eroticism. McAvoy
(The Last King of Scotland) has definitely
proven to be one of the (if not the) most talented
young English actor of his generation. And young
Saoirse Ronan does a brilliant job of portraying
the multi-faceted young Briony as a basically
good young woman who is so confused by her emerging
sexuality that she commits a monstrous act of
evil. And Romola Garai as the eighteen year old
Briony is heart breaking as she strives for forgiveness
by submerging her soul in the quest to help wounded
British soldiers. And what can I say about the
incomparable Vanessa Redgrave that has not already
been said except to say “Ditto.”

Joe Wright did a beautiful job putting together
this multi-layered story of love, war, jealousy
and grief. Atonement is destined to be
a classic; it is definitely a movie I will not
soon forget.

12/13/2007:
According to this article on MSNBC.com,
Atonement received seven nominations
for the Golden Globes, the largest number of nominations
for any film.

Ethan Hawke and Philip
Seymour Hoffman in Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead

Sidney Lumet is
a little guy. He’s short, slight in frame,
has fury eyebrows, and small hands. A quick comparison
to Scorsese seems too easy and yet, like the better-known,
younger director, Lumet is a genius behind the
camera. At eighty-four years old his career has
burgeoned with films like Dog Day Afternoon,
The Wiz and Serpico, working
with greats at their peak—Pacino, Brando,
Hoffman, as in Philip Seymour (although this one
is up for discussion). Lumet is as they say, a
legend.

At it again, decades
after his most noted work, Lumet brings us Before
the Devil Knows You’re Dead: a film
best described as a Greek tragedy of a dysfunctional
family unable to pull themselves from their destructive
path. The tragic characters in turmoil: the father
who is too hard on his eldest son, the younger
brother who strives for his elder brother’s
attention, the much loved mother/martyr, jealousy,
adultery, and betrayal. Lumet tells their story
in a non-linear way exposing the family’s
unraveling in the opening scene—a robbery
gone horribly wrong. (Actually, the film begins
with a provocative sex scene between Andy (Hoffman)
and his wife Gina, played by Marisa Tomei.)

Philip Seymour
Hoffman plays Andy, a character that is manipulative
and scheming. Ethan Hawke plays the younger, less
intelligent brother. Both Hawke and Lumet argue
that the more obvious casting choice would have
been the reversal—Hawke as the calculating
older brother and Hoffman as the self-loathing,
self-deprecating Hank. This option, however, allowed
them both to play with more challenging, less-expectant
character traits. Hawke found it hardest to play
such a moral-lacking, weak character, but took
the role for its attachment to Lumet—an
opportunity he thanks Hoffman’s success
for.

The tangled plot
unwinds in a non-linear way divulging portions
of itself at a time. From the beginning, viewers
know that partners-in-crime Andy and Hank plan
the nearly perfect crime: the robbery of a local
mom and pop jewelry store. The catch is that it
is their mother and father’s store, one
they are intimate with. Their seemingly flawless
plan goes haywire, resulting in their mother’s
death. Without the matriarch at their center,
the family crumbles. The males are unable to lay
their expectations to rest—Charles, the
patriarch of the family, played by Albert Finney
is hardest on Andy. Andy vies for his father’s
affection and Hank fights for Andy’s. It’s
the never-ending cycle that stays unresolved.

The caliber
of acting speaks volumes of this film, which is
at once surprising and expected. Lumet stays true
to his nature and does not disappoint. His experience
has kept him sharp, allowing for precise and beautiful
story telling in Before the Devil Knows You’re
Dead.

Mike Nichols'Charlie Wilson’s WarOpens Friday, December 21, 2007

Reviewed by Frank
J. Avella

Charlie Wilson’s
War is yet another hotly anticipated holiday
release that was immediately pummeled by a gaggle
of quasi-critics (those self-appointed Oscar “experts”
you’ve heard so much bashing about this
season) as not worthy of all the expectation hyped
upon it. Well, firstly, the expectation was hyped
by these gurus of nada themselves, proving once
again that ‘those who can’t’
love to build up and then immediately tear down.

The good news,
my film friends, is that the “chosen”
few were fucking wrong (not the first time) and
full of shit (not surprising) for Charlie
Wilson’s War is not only one of the
most sharply written, deftly directed and masterfully
acted films of the year, it’s a fan-frikkin’-tastically
funny comedy as well, something the season is
sorely lacking.

Aaron Sorkin, who
began his career as a playwright (A Few Good
Men) and then moved very quickly to episodic
TV (The West Wing) and has recently moved back
to Broadway (The Farnsworth Invention)
has penned a smart, savvy, satiric look at one
man’s ablilty to manage the impossible...with
a little help from his friends.

The film follows
the womanizing, boozing liberal Congressman from
Texas known as “Goodtime Charlie”
along an unexpected journey to free the Afghans
from the Soviet stronghold, after the invasion
of 1979. Wilson is the perfect Washington operator.
He knows the right people and knows how to get
things done. When he asks for five million dollars
for something the CIA is planning, he gets it--no
questions asked.

Charlie is, initially,
hoodwinked into this challenge by the wealthy
and powerful Houston socialite Joanne Herring,
played with delight and relish by a stunning Julia
Roberts. This may not be the pretty woman we’re
used to (especially in that fright wig) but she
sinks her teeth in solidly here and delivers.

It’s Joanne
who arranges a key meeting between Charlie and
the Pakistani president. Toss in a sardonic and
bitter CIA op (played perfectly by Philip Seymour
Hoffman) as well as Israelis and Arabs (who were
brought together for the first and ONLY time)
and Charlie has the ammunition he needs (figuratively
and literally) to aide the Afghans in their plight
against the, then, Soviets. Of course, helping
with the defeat must never reflect back to the
U.S.

Much information
is tossed at the audience in the movie. Some of
it will not brain-stick during the first viewing,
but it doesn’t have to. It’s fine
to simply grasp the crux of what is going on and
the unbelievable achievement one man and a few
enemy countries were able to accomplish. The results
proved terrific (the end of the cold war with
the fall of the Soviet wall) and terrible (much
of the training of the Muslims created a breeding
ground for the Islamic fundamentalists that would
go on to hate America and seek revenge...)

There’s been
some controversy about the original ending being
forced-cut by Universal because Wilson and Herring
did not appreciate being connected, even peripherally,to
what would eventually be the 9/11 attacks--so
they allegedly sought legal counsel and twisted
a few studio arms. Regardless, the point is felt,
even though the current ending feels too abrupt.
Otherwise the film moves fluidly and is finely
edited (by Oscar winner John Bloom).

Tom Hanks is doing
some of his best work now. Along with Road
to Perdition, this is one of his sharpest
performances. He’s unafraid to give Charlie
the faults and freckles that make him who he is.
This is not a Jimmy Stewart turn (and it easily
could have been). Hanks humanizes Charlie for
us so we can understand and appreciate the folly
of politics and of personal judgments. Hanks does
what the Harrison Fords of the industry are afraid
to do, he takes chances with his film selections
and with his craft. The results are an ever expanding
repertoire of fascinating characters as well as
choices..

A special mention
to the wonderful Amy Adams (Enchanted),
who is one of the few girls in the film Charlie
does not sleep with as well as the perennially
political Ned Beatty, always on his game.

Director Mike Nichols
is a craftsman who has made some truly great films
(Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?,
The Graduate, Silkwood and the
made for TV masterwork, Angels in America).
Charlie may not make that list but it
stands proud with his most stellar work.

Julian Schnabel's The Diving Bell and the Butterfly
French with English Subtitles
Opens November 30, 2007

Julian Schnabel
(Basquait, Before Night Falls)
has made a gorgeous, sensual feast of a film about
the sad story of Jean Dominique Bauby, the editor
of Elle France, who at the young age of forty-three
suffered a stroke that left him in "locked-in"
condition. Unable to move any part of his body
except his left eye, Bauby (played by Mathieu
Amalric), wrote a book (also titled The Diving
Bell and the Butterfly) about his experience.

Working from a
script by Ronald Harwood (The Pianist,
Love in the Time of Cholera, Oliver
Twist) the first half of the film is told
through the camera-eye of Bauby's left eye. As
the story opens, we as Bauby's eye, awake to see
kindly worried people hovering over our bed telling
us that we have had a stroke and now that we are
awake we should be just fine. Then one of the
doctors asks Bauby to say his name, he does and
no one hears him except us, the film audience.

Bauby then narrates
his own movie, telling us the story of his old
and new life. Bauby's affliction has not made
him into a saint. He is instead the same sardonic
hedonist that he was before the accident.

The story follows
Bauby's work with his gorgeous therapists, Henriette
(played by Marie-Josée Croze) and Marie
(Schnabel's wife Olatz Lopez Garmendia). Henriette
devises a method by which Bauby can communicate
with the world - a chart with the letters of the
French alphabet arranged in most-used order. She
painstakingly goes through the alphabet and Bauby
blinks when she reaches a letter that he wishes
to use. Bauby signals that he would like to write
the book that he had contracted to write before
the accident and the therapist make arrangements
with his publisher to have yet another beautiful
woman take dictation, Claude (played by Marie
Anne Consigny).

This film is never
maudlin; it is beautifully shot by Janusz Kaminski,
also Steven Spielberg's cinematographer. We leave
the viewpoint of Bauby's eye and see the world
around him. The hospital room is a green marvel
and the hospital itself is located by the sea;
the entire setting is lovely. And to paraphrase
Dr. Seuss, oh the things Bauby saw. Bauby receives
visitors, the gorgeous mother of his three children,
Celine (played by Emmanuelle Seigner). We see
them on the beach with Celine's skirt being lifted
by the wind. His equally gorgeous children visit
and play in the sand. And Bauby's beautiful view
of the world is not restricted to his present
"diving bell." We follow the butterfly
of his imagination as he remembers his past and
takes flights of fancy into the future. And we
follow him as he drives former girlfriend to Lourdes,
her hair beautifully blowing in the wind. Bauby
was a lustful man and the film is permeated with
Bauby's (and Schnabel's) lust for life.

Bell is
one of the best films I have seen this year and
that is quite a complement with films like Gone
Baby Gone and Before the Devil Knows
You're Dead for competition. Schnabel won
the prize for Best Director at the Cannes Film
Festival for Bell and this film will
surely be an Oscar contender for Schnabel, Harwood,
Kiminski and the talented (and gorgeous) cast.

Abby Cornish, Cate Blanchett
and Clive Owen

Shekhar Kapur’sElizabeth: The Golden Age
Opens Friday, October 12, 2007

Reviewed by Frank
J. Avella

All the majesty,
the pomp, the grandeur, the visual splendor and
the tour de force acting that made 1998’s
Elizabeth so incredibly riveting can once
again be enjoyed in Elizabeth: The Golden
Age. And while it is not the gem the original
was; it is not the disappointment many assumed
it would be.

This sequel (in
a planned trilogy) is an intense thrill ride that
plays a bit too fast and loose with history but
presents a few intriguing notions that go against
the grain of conventional portrayals of the Virgin
Queen.

One is her alleged
love of Sir Walter Raleigh (a roughish and charming
Clive Owen). Not to give too much away, but this
love story takes a bit of a different turn than
most others in its portrayal of the Queen Bee
and her seafaring suitor.

A second (and wonderfully
surprising) twist is how the film views Mary,
Queen of Scots (Samantha Morton). Almost always
seen as a victim, a martyr, here she is actually
depicted as a conniving and ambitious woman who
craves the throne more than she cares about her
Catholicism.

At the heart of
this film is an attempt to truly explore the woman
and her fears, not just the Queen and her triumphs.

It’s 1585
and all is not well in Britain. Having ruled for
over three decades, the Queen must now deal with
the threat of the Inquisition via Catholic Spain
as well as the threat to her throne, by way of
Mary Stuart. In addition, she is manipulated into
searching for a husband that can provide her with
a proper heir. Dealing with her own aging and
the ominous threat against her country, Elizabeth
preps for the greatest battles of her life.

The visual and
aural bombast in Elizabeth: The Golden Age
is more than a tad overdone, and the script (by
William Nicholson and Michael Hirst, who wrote
the first one) isn’t as crisp and fine-tuned
as the original but Cate Blanchett’s towering
performance more than makes up for these missteps.

In a role played
by Glenda Jackson, Helen Mirren and Bette Davis,
just to name a few of the diva-licious dames who
have taken Elizabeth I on, Cate Blanchett manages
to reach deep within and expose her demons. Don’t
get me wrong, when she needs to she chews the
scenery like she is expected to, but in the quieter
moments lie the key to her exploration--specifically
early on in scenes with her pet lady-in-waiting,
Bess (a delightful Abbie Cornish). There are glimmers
of a sexual attraction, jealousy, adoration and
genuine love that seep through her tough exterior.
Bravo Blanchett for her amazing gifts. Another
nomination deservedly beckons.

The score by Craig
Armstrong and AR Rahman is a force unto itself.
The costumes are grand. The art direction is sumptuous.
The editing is dazzlingly frenetic. And the camera-work
is dizzyingly mesmerizing. It’s all over-the-top,
but completely right for this film and the recreation
of the famous defeat of the Spanish Armada is
a triumph of cinema-wizardry.

Prior to this battle,
Elizabeth is told that she must flee her home
since the Spanish threat is imminent. Instead,
she dawns her body armor, saddles her stallion
and rides out to meet her soldiers. There she
delivers a rousing speech that gives the film
its heart and soul. It’s a glorious moment.
A glorious performance. A fine film.

To say Amy
Adams is enchanting in Enchanted is redundant--to
the third power actually. Anyone who saw her hilarious
and heartbreaking turn in Junebug, two
years ago, knows just how extraordinary this actress
is. This is a star-making performance, no question.
One that will rightly garner Adams an Academy
Award nomination. What is so remarkable about
Kevin Lima’s new film is just how much it
lives up to Adams’ talents!

Enchanted
is the first live action/animation blend that
I have ever seen that actually investigates what
it is like for a cartoon to become human…for
a drawn fairy princess (to be) to become a flesh
and blood woman bursting with confusion, lust
and her own newfound idiosyncrasies. (It’s
not rated R so it doesn’t go THAT far—this
is still Disney!) And thanks to Adams we are privy
to her inner world and we watch her move from
her one-dimensional demeanor, excitedly and with
trepidation, to exploring full three-dimensionality!

I do not feel the
need to give away any of the plot. Suffice to
say; you’ve seen it all before…until
you haven’t!

Disney gets lots
of props for not just allowing the creative forces
at work to skew and satire their precious film
characters, heritage, image, etc…but to
do it in such a clever and deliciously whacky
way. This never feels like a paint-by-numbers
Hollywood film.

The movie has the
chutzpah to poke fun at many animated (and musical)
conventions such as: having characters burst into
song for no real reason and the delightful staple
of summoning nearby creatures to help out our
heroine. The latter is brilliantly turned upside
down in the number: “Happy Working Song”
when Adams asks the help of a slew of nearby pigeons,
rats and cockroaches to help clean Patrick Dempsey’s
(yes, McDreamy!) apartment. It is an instant classic
clip as we watch with joy and horror as these
vermin infest the screen, all led with happy glee
by Adams! Even the character’s name, Giselle,
is a fun riff on past Disney heroines.

The three new songs
by Alan Menken and Stephen Schwartz are wonderful,
with “That’s How You Know” having
a particularly Oscary ring to it.

Besides the sensational
Adams, James Marsden should be singled out for
a stellar Prince of a performance. Marsden, once
an Ally McBealer, currently seen in Hairspray,
is one of the most underrated actors working today.
And there seems to be no limits to his talents.

Finally, the film
is a Valentine to the greatest city in the world:
New York—and specifically, Manhattan. Central
Park, Lincoln Center and, in particular, Times
Square, are photographed with such love that we
understand why Giselle is so taken with our fair
city, that she would want to permanently stay
and not return to the magical kingdom she came
from.

Chris Weitz'sThe Golden Compass
Opens December 7, 2007

Reviewed by Corey Shtasel-Gottlieb

It doesn’t take a
wizard—or a little girl’s magical
truth-telling device—to discover that The
Golden Compass is the latest addition to
2007’s growing list of blockbuster letdowns.
Dredged in special effects that even the purest
of movie purists will enjoy, Compass
appears to have all the makings of a sure thing.
Really, it should work. Rarely do pre-teen heroism,
dark world villainy and a beastly budget fail
to produce vast success, and the cultish popularity
of Phillip Pullman’s His Dark Materials
lends to the film a Harry Potteresque
fan-base (read: children and nerdy adult Trekkies).
So what happened, then? Why did I spend the better
part of two hours wishing I’d stayed home
and ordered A League of Their Own on Netflix?

I hesitate to plunge feet-first into an outright
bashing of this movie, as it did have its redeeming
features. There is a story here, a story that
maintains flecks of Pullman’s creative genius
despite Hollywood’s greatest efforts at
blockbusterization. We join in the valiant journey
of Lyra Belacqua, a spirited heroine who travels
to the arctic North in hopes of saving her kidnapped
friends. Lyra ventures alongside her beloved “daemon”,
an animal spirit that hops around on screen like
a Pixar Jiminy Cricket (the daemons quietly became
my favorite part of the movie, mostly because
they allowed me to ask myself what my own daemon
would be—I’ve since decided that a
St. Bernard might be the closest match to a hairy,
docile Jewish man). Visually, her journey falls
somewhere in between a ride on The Polar Express
and a game of Mortal Kombat, a beautiful but graphic
spin through the depths of childhood imagination.
There is something undeniably compelling about
this cinematography, especially when we’re
granted courtside seats at a polar bear deathmatch
(no doubt the one scene that twenty-something
men will rely upon when justifying having seen
this movie).

Ultimately, though, the movie lacks what I like
to call ‘give a shittability.’
Too much of the storyline is mired in the film’s
over-dependence on animation which, while impressive,
quickly begins to feel like watching a friend
play video games. It was difficult to follow exactly
what was going on—I found myself waiting
and waiting for a finally-this-makes-sense moment
that never came. Sometimes, such confusion isn’t
a bad thing; in Lord of the Rings, for
example, we care enough about Frodo and Samwise
and Gandolf to overlook the fact that half the
time we don’t know what the hell’s
going on with that ring.

Here, though, the appeal isn’t strong enough.
Nicole Kidman, the film’s supposed big draw,
plays the same weird good witch-bad witch that
she seems to become every time out. Give her Cruella
Deville or Princess Di or the freakin’ Unibomber,
it won’t make a difference: she’ll
still insist on using that eerie, toneless voice
and smiling that Tom-Cruise-just-injected-me-with-his-scientology-tranquilizer
smile. Call me biased, but I don’t think
she’s any better here. Daniel Craig doesn’t
offer much in addition, either, simply because
we don’t see enough of him. In fact, I only
even mention him here because my man crush on
him as Bond refuses to fade. Actually, little
Dakota Blue Richards might be the movie’s
saving grace, as she makes her big-screen debut
as an endearing and believable Lyra. Richards
is more than just cute, she’s sincere, and
she manages to avoid the too-old-for-her-body
affect that makes the other Dakota (Fanning) creepy
to watch. She’ll blow up, I think, assuming
she stays away from too-cutesy roles…and
Lindsay Lohan.

In the end, though, Richards isn’t enough
to save The Golden Compass. There’s
just not enough to care about, not enough to really
invest in. Director Chris Weitz seems to have
spent too much time with the green screen and
not enough on plot development (really makes you
thankful that this kind of technology wasn’t
available when he was shooting Jim’s masturbation
scene in American Pie, no?). I find it
hard to imagine an audience that wouldn’t
be left wanting by this film—the effects
alone may make it worth seeing, but beyond that,
it’s an expensive disappointment.

Casey Affleck, Morgan
Freeman and Michelle Monaghan

Ben Affleck'sGone Baby Gone
Opens everywhere Friday, October 19, 2007

Reviewed by Alejandra
Serret

When I hear Ben
Affleck’s name associated with a project
I can't help but wonder if the moment has arrived
in which he can assert himself as a Hollywood
powerhouse and detach himself from career blunders
like Gigli, Jersey Girl and
Paycheck. His recent work as George Reeves
in Hollywoodland (while it bombed at
the box office) brought him close, not only displaying
true talent but a desire to challenge himself
artistically. After spending the majority of his
career in front of the camera, he is most impressive
behind, with his directorial debut, Gone Baby
Gone. It’s been 10 years since Ben
Affleck wowed audiences with Good Will Hunting,
which he co-wrote and acted in, winning an Oscar.
He has again proved his worthiness with his adaptation
of Dennis Lehane’s novel Gone Baby Gone,
like his other work (i.e. Mystic River),
it explores Boston’s grimmer side.

South Boston natives/private
investigators/lovers Patrick Kenzie (Casey Affleck)
and Angie Genarro (Michelle Monaghan) work to
uncover the mystery surrounding the disappearance
of four-year-old Amanda McCready. Familiar with
the streets and people of Dorchester, the partners
dive head first, investing themselves in finding
her. While the Boston Police Department may have
experience on their side, Kenzie and Genarro have
connections and understand the street mentality.
The chilling truth they unearth tells the story
of a neglected child and the community she lives
in—at once coming together and coming apart.

Ben Affleck is
able to execute a genuine tone and cadence in
Gone Baby Gone through his dedication
to authenticity—from the actors to the setting
and technique. The film begins with deliberate,
almost poetic shots of Dorchester. Affleck captured
the beauty of the ordinary, which became heightened
through a traumatic event. His younger brother
Casey Affleck, who has recently garnered positive
buzz with his portrayal of Robert Ford in The
Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert
Ford, delivered perfectly, owning his role
as Patrick Kenzie.

Casey Affleck’s
subtlety exposes a genuine talent allowing viewers
to become invested in Amanda’s plight and
the desire to see her home safely. While his performance
raises the film’s potential, it’s
the cast chemistry that makes it a true success.
Michelle Monaghan is believable and not overshadowed
by Morgan Freeman (police chief Jack Doyle) or
Ed Harris (police detective Remy Bressant). While
both veterans deliver as expected, it’s
in the more unexpected roles that the film shines.
Amy Ryan, who plays Helene McCready, and Jill
Quigg, as her best friend Dottie, capture the
jargon, accent, and attitude. Ben Affleck showcases
his attention to detail and his dedication to
accurately portraying a city in the ways that
it is both bad and good. He does Lehane justice
through his adaptation and vision of Gone
Baby Gone.

Francis Lawrence’sI Am Legend
Opens Friday, December 14, 2007

Starring: Will
Smith; Emma Thompson

Reviewed
by Marguerite Daniels

Vampire-Zombies may be scary, but they aren’t
always the most convincing of film conventions
and neither is the disease that cripples the most
current installment of Richard Matheson's sci-fi
classic I Am Legend. This blockbuster
and eagerly-anticipated Will Smith vehicle is
penned and produced by Akiva Goldsman and directed
by the famed music video director Francis Lawrence.
The disease in question is caused by a much-lauded
cancer cure created by the smug Dr. Alice Krippin,
played by Emma Thompson. The virus mutates which
leads to a few slight and unfortunate side effects:
it kills people or turns them into flesh-eating
zombies. (How could that little tidbit been missed
during the clinical trials?)

Fortunately
both the infected zombies and the disease that
causes the afore mentioned beasties are battled
by the ever-photogenic Will Smith who plays Lt.
Col. Robert Neville, an intrepid military medical
researcher, former Time Magazine “Man of
the Year,” and perhaps the last man on earth.
Will Smith’s Lt. Col. Neville is lonely
save his loyal companion, the patient and fortuitously-adopted
German Sheppard, Sam, and as the last healthy
man in Manhattan he spends his days frolicking
in a video store since Netflix is obviously no
longer an option, looking for a “cure”
for the disease that has decimated the human race,
and fighting off the occasional CGI lion pride
for gazelle that roam the island freely. At night,
he barricades himself against the flesh-eaters
in his extremely posh Washington Square home.
He also searches in vain for other survivors,
never losing hope that he isn’t the only
human left alive.

In their new state, little has changed for the
infected, who are former well-healed Manhattanites,
living en masse in dark, shabby dwellings not
so dissimilar to the cramped apartments they once
shared with several other roommates. The zombies
are creatures of the night and flee from bright
lights the same way make-up laden women do after
a long night of binge-drinking and dancing. The
cannibals are also nattily attired, wearing the
quintessential white wife-beater tank top, and
the always chic micro-short. But as is the way
with zombies, they don’t play well with
others, and they tend to hunt and kill all living
creatures be them man, dog or beast. Perhaps that
is the greatest change in the New Yorkers, as
zombies they aren’t terribly discerning
about their food.

Will Smith, himself, is very good in this film
despite the muddled screenplay he works with.
He convincingly plays both endearing and batty,
and we are treated to a host of Will Smith zombie-slayings,
as well as an extended view of his taut and glistening
pectorals and abs during a gratuitous work-out
scene. Manhattan looks great, too, considering
that an apocalypse has occurred. The eerily-empty
city is no-worse-for-wear save a few weeds and
is lovely in its somewhat wild state. Sadly the
fault of I am Legend lies in its gapping-hole
filed plot. The film opens well enough, but as
it creeps on the audience must suspend belief
because very few things are explained: Just how
does the electricity still work in Manhattan if
there is no one to monitor the power stations?
How does a re-engineered measles virus/cure for
cancer morph into a rabies-like virus? If the
zombies are inhuman, why are they still wearing
clothes and where do they shop? And just how does
a military virologist and his family afford a
brownstone in Washington Square Park?

With so many questions left unanswered the film
loses focus, shying away from its darker elements
and ending with a pat, pseudo-religious message
regarding God’s will. Which is disappointing.
Though the film is beautifully shot by cinematographer
Andrew Lesnie, perhaps it would have benefited
from a director a bit more experienced than Lawrence,
whose first film was 2005’s critically panned
Constantine. After all, a film cannot stand alone
on Will Smith’s broad and strapping shoulders.

Cate Blanchett in
Todd Haynes’ I’m Not There Opens November 21, 2007

Reviewed by Frank J. Avella

In a season of
ambitious filmic endeavors, Todd Haynes’
I’m Not There, which is “inspired
by the life and work of Bob Dylan” stands
as one of the most ambitious, and as such, divisive
pics of 2007.

The one and seemingly
ONLY thing most folks agree on is Cate Blanchett’s
performance. Her Dylan is simply astonishing.
But more on her later.

I’m Not
There is mock-docu-pastiche of sorts, a cinema
mosaic of various incarnations that embody the
essence of the many different Dylans, through
the years, as the man reinvented himself—funneled
through the brilliant and inventive mind of Mr.
Haynes. The notion is that one can never truly
capture a person onscreen--their essence. You
can read all the books, articles, listen to all
the music--interview all the loved (and not so
loved) ones and even talk to the subject himself,
and still not really get a good idea who that
person is. And Dylan, the icon, is even more mysterious
than most.

In I’m
Not There, Haynes has impressively created
a host of persons who, together, may give some
representation of the enigmatic artist. It’s
a fascinating premise and he has, single-handedly,
reinvented the (oh, so stale) biopic. Does it
work? Well, now that depends. The film is not
a failure, nor is it a resounding success (to
this critic, anyway). Yet it’s very much
like my perception of Dylan, flawed but extraordinary
(at times).

I greatly admire
the film, but that isn’t the same as loving
it. Actually, I haven’t felt so perplexed
about my own reaction to a film in a very long
time.

The Blanchett sequence
borrows generously from Fellini, specifically
Otto e’ Mezza (8 1/2),
and in there might lay my chief problem with I’m
Not There. I adore Fellini. He’s one
of my favorite auteurs. Fellini (along with Bergman)
was able to concoct his own personal vision hatched
from his lunatic/genius head, put it onscreen
and, somehow, it was miraculously accessible--most
of the time. Haynes’ film is most definitely
personal, almost too personal—somewhat impossible
to penetrate. He has distilled his own Dylan from
all his research and all his love. So it feels
like it’s exclusively Haynes’ Dylan—and
not one we can embrace or even understand. Yet,
perhaps that is the point. Perhaps it’s
okay for this film to be a trip into the mind
of Haynes via Dylan (instead of vice versa). I’m
truly not certain. Perhaps after repeated viewings
I will come to totally embrace the pic…or
loathe it.

What does work,
works supremely well. Heath Ledger is quite powerful
and his scenes with Charlotte Gainsbourg are wonderful
to watch. And there are many sequences that astound
(specifically one that involves Allen Ginsberg
and Jesus Christ—I will say no more). The
Gere scenes are less enthralling and that has
less to do with the actor than with the fact that
those moments never meld with the rest of the
film.

But as soon as
Cate Blanchett blasts onto the screen as the freaky,
androgynous Dylan the movie takes off to tremendously
joyous heights. Blanchett has proven that there
isn’t much she can’t do. From Elizabeth
onward, she has shown her versatility and her
bravery in making choices. No one else in her
peer group (with the possible exception of Kate
Winslet) can come close to her remarkable body
of work these last ten years.

Her Jude isn’t
so much an impersonation—although she is
the closest to a real Dylan that we get (whatever
that means), it’s an exhilarating immersion
into Haynes’ most richly written ‘subject.’
Blanchett’s scenes are what one remembers
most after the credits roll and the lights come
up.

I love the film’s
theme of identity, certainly something that all
artists (all people probably) struggle with. Haynes
puts forth the notion that ultimate freedom is
escaping the pigeonholing and being able to reinvent
yourself as you go through different life cycles.
(Jane Fonda is a great example of an artist who
has metamorphosed more than most and has always
fascinated with her next incarnation.) And why
not? Isn’t that what a realized life should
be? Constantly searching for answers to that eternal
‘why am I here’ question?

I came to this
film as someone who appreciates Dylan--the power
of his music. I wouldn’t call myself a fan.
The film made me crave more. So I went right out
and picked up the four-hour Scorsese documentary
and I bought a few Dylan CDs. I am very happy
I did. If the film does the same for others, then
maybe we’ll all develop our own visions/notions
of Bob Dylan and who he is…who he needs
to be…to us--individually.

Robert Redford's Lions for Lambs
Opens Friday, November 9, 2007

Reviewed by Allison
Ford

In the war against
terror, the biggest threat to our nation is neither
the enemy, nor our government leaders. The biggest
threat is our own complacency. Robert Redford’s
brilliant and electrifying new film, Lions
for Lambs, fairly explores themes such as
personal responsibility, the duties of a free
press, and idealism in education. It is not an
indictment of obstinate Republicans, and it is
not a sentimental plea for troop withdrawal. It
is a fair and ruthless debate of our position
in the war and how we got there, and a call to
arms for the millions of Americans who are outraged,
yet apathetic.

The parallel action
of Lions for Lambs takes place over the
course of one hour, as events unfold in Washington
DC, California, and Afghanistan. Tom Cruise plays
an ambitious Republican senator, dangling the
exclusive scoop on his new military strategy in
front of a TV journalist, played by Meryl Streep.
Redford plays a college professor, charged with
reigniting the idealism and passion of his most
promising student. Michael Pena and Derek Luke
play courageous young soldiers in Afghanistan,
embodying the human face of these two debates.

The film’s
central theme is the decision to do what is right,
rather than what is easy. Political ideologies
and motivations for the war are discussed and
debated brilliantly between Cruise and Streep.
She listens to the buzzwords and evasive platitudes
offered by Cruise, a hawkish Presidential hopeful
staking his political career on a suspicious new
military tactic. Cruise is as slick and slippery
as any DC spin doctor, rationalizing the human
cost of military action, and wearing blinders
to the possibility of error. He embodies all those
who choose righteousness over peace. They debate
not only the government’s missteps in miring
the country in war, but also the complicity of
the media, which has wholeheartedly perpetuated
the government’s idea of the facts, and
forced this distorted version of truth upon the
American people. At the end of the day, who is
truly responsible - the government for creating
the story, the media for selling it, or Americans
for buying?

Robert Redford,
as a political science professor at an unnamed
California university, debates human potential,
passion, and idealism with his disillusioned student,
played by Andrew Garfield. Redford bemoans the
indifference in the youth of today, who have become
jaded and disappointed with the politics of hypocrisy,
and Redford seeks to inspire Garfield to have
the courage to try to make a difference. As they
say, if you don’t stand for something, you’ll
fall for anything.

Two-thirds of the
film’s action takes place in offices –
despite the impassioned performances, they are
merely debating; having conversations. The film’s
interesting juxtaposition is the inaction of conversations
versus the immediacy of the story of the soldiers
fighting to survive. They play out a poorly-devised
military tactic, which was dreamed up by a politician
who has never seen combat. The American soldiers
featured are also former promising students of
Redford’s. They are the heroes of the movie;
two gifted inner-city kids who lay their lives
on the line for a nation full of citizens who
feel that “supporting the troops”
means a yellow ribbon sticker on their SUVs. The
film bluntly reminds us that even as the politicians
and pundits bicker and argue, there is a real
human cost to our inaction and poor decisions.

The characters
in the film are challenged to have courage –
to take a stand, to say No, to fight for what
it is that they believe. Meryl Streep finds the
courage to doubt and to question, and to reject
what the policymakers in DC want her to believe
and report. In his office, Tom Cruise asks, “How
many times are you people going to ask the same
questions?” Streep replies, “Until
we get the answers.” She represents a lone
voice of conscience in the news media; one dissenter,
unwilling to continue propagating the lies and
half-truths. The soldiers volunteer for battle,
to not sit and wait for others to solve the problems.
At the end of the film, Redford’s student
faces a choice, and stands on the precipice of
deciding between continuing in his blasé,
peaceful existence, and taking action to be a
force of change.

Redford’s
character laments at no other time in our history
“have such lions been led by such lambs.”
This film portrays the lack of real, courageous
leadership from those in power. It implies that
servicemen and idealists are the lions, courageous
and righteous, while the insulated, protected
government leaders are the lambs. However, the
deeper symbolism of the lamb is even more powerful.
The real metaphorical lambs of the story are the
common soldiers. They are led into battle by those
who should be protecting and shepherding them,
and the result is the slaughter and sacrifice
of our best and brightest. The soldiers in this
film are promising students, called into action
by their patriotism and then pushed into danger
by the smug self-righteousness of politicians
like Cruise, who are safely shielded from the
consequences of error.

Lions for
Lambs is a smart, stylish, and fearless film,
highlighted by superb performances and Redford’s
razor-sharp direction. His maverick take on American
politics is not an indictment of any one viewpoint.
The only condemnation is of cowardice. Most of
the scenes in the film are debates, and they are
ruthlessly engaging, because we have the opportunity
to watch our most masterful screen actors at work.
Cruise and Streep engage in a high-stakes game
of evasion that leaves the audience breathless,
even as the characters themselves barely raise
an eyebrow. Lions for Lambs is not merely
a war drama – the engagement of the audience
doesn’t happen through action and gunfire.

Ultimately,
our country’s fate depends on the actions
of all of us. We will not succeed or fail based
on a handful of lawmakers or journalists, and
it is impossible to lay all the blame for past
mistakes at the feet of one man or political party.
The film portrays the human element of conflict,
and reminds us of the tragic consequences of inaction
and hubris. Lions for Lambs is a stark
reminder that changing the course of history is
the right and responsibility of every single American,
and it challenges us to have the courage to do
so.

Robert Redford's Lions for Lambs
Opens Friday, November 9, 2007

Reviewed
by Frank J. Avella

Robert Redford’s
Lions for Lambs may be earnest and idealistic
and slightly simplistic in it’s presentation,
but it’s actually a film about ideas made
by a skilled filmmaker who appears to be very
concerned about the state of our country. The
lambasting the film is getting from the very media
outlets it calls to task is not surprising, but
it is disheartening.

Don’t be
fooled by the misguided critiques of oh-so-evolved
journalists who feel superior to the dialogue
Redford is trying to encourage. The reason the
film works so well, and it does, is that it refuses
to speak from a position of superiority. It will
not condescend. Redford asks some terribly important
questions. The pic also boasts a smart script,
deft direction and impressive performances.

The docu-drama
plot involves three interwoven sequences. On a
west coast university campus, Dr. Malley (Redford)
debates a promising but apathetic student (an
excellent Andrew Garfield) about his potential
as a citizen of the world and why he should apply
himself. In Washington, D.C., an ambitious Senator
(Tom Cruise) is about to reveal a major war story
to a seasoned and savvy TV journalist (Meryl Streep).
The third segment involves two of Malley’s
former students (Derek Luke & Michael Pena),
now on the battlefield in Afghanistan.

The film is filled
with talk, much talk. And how refreshing is that!
Yet the film-speak is never dull…and when
Streep and Cruise spar the results are riveting.
Streep delivers yet another perfect performance
and Cruise has his best role since Magnolia,
eight years ago.

Much of the power
of Lions for Lambs comes from the films
condemnation of the media’s handling of
the Iraq War at its outset. From the get go, most
outlets just bought what was being fed to them
from the White House hook, line and stinker (spelling
error intended). They rarely questioned why. They
simply reported the news according to the (then
very popular) Bush Administration, worrying more
about ratings and circulation than about doing
their jobs as journalists. So many of these print
and tele-media reps are now bashing the film…and
the critics are doing their best to kill it.

Don’t let
them.

Lions for Lambs
is an important film that deserves to find an
audience. For those of you who are tired of the
cold, strictly-cerebral techno-dazzle of certain
films that are being ridiculously lauded by the
majority of critics, Lions is the perfect
antidote. The film is a plea for action and if
it galvanizes a handful of audience members into
doing something as simple as actually voting in
the next election, well, then, it served a greater
purpose than most movies ever do.

Nanking,
a thoughtful documentary directed by Bill Guttentag
and Dan Sturman and produced by Ted Leonsis examines
the violent six week period in 1937 when Japanese
troops invaded Shanghai and then capital Nanking,
killing an estimated 200,000 and raping a reported
20,000. Seventy years later, archival footage,
chilling interviews and first-hand, written accounts
revive the horror of that time. While foreigners
evacuated the country, twenty-two European and
American Expatriates remained, creating the Safety
Zone. Guttentag and Sturman focus the film here—on
the two square mile area that helped protect some
200,000 Chinese refugees.

Nanking tells the
horrifying and all too common story of the atrocities
inflicted in times of war. Like other documentaries
some of the hardest moments come with the testimonials—85
and 90 year old men and women reliving brutal
rapes and beatings and the vivid murders of their
parents, siblings and friends. Their palpable
anguish that is still so visibly intact, courses
through each story. While the survivors’
accounts give the documentary substance, interviews
with several Japanese soldiers give it shape.
How does someone justify unnecessary cruelty and
violence? A baby stabbed through by a bayonet
and his mother’s attempt to breast feed
as she bleeds to death. Apparently one doesn’t
have to justify brutality in times of war.

Guttentag and Sturman
attempt to sear these glimpses and fragments of
a life into the viewer’s memory. A very
unique tool they use in order to achieve this
is to cast actors to play the roles of the Safety
Zone Committee Members: Bob Wilson a doctor (played
by Woody Harrelson), Minnie Vaughn a professor
(played by Mariel Hemingway), John Rabe a German
Businessman and member of the Nazi Party (played
by Jurgen Prochnow), George Fitch a priest (played
by John Getz), and Lewis Smythe a Christian missionary
(played by Stephen Dorff). By using actors to
read the Committee Members’ first hand accounts,
which they acquired through letters written to
family and friends, Guttentag and Sturman were
able to give words, a face and personality. They
gave the letters texture. The archival footage
spread throughout, works as the glue that holds
all the varying parts together. Hard evidence
of the carnage is impossible to forget and harder
yet to argue against or deny (although many have
tried).

Nanking
succeeds in giving a poignant view of a period
of time seventy years ago when average people
banded together to save thousands. Without the
help of weapons these professors, missionaries,
priests and businessmen protected the innocent
and made it possible for the truth to be heard.
Guttentag and Sturman are thorough, allowing “The
Rape of Nanking” to unfold within the details.
It is often hard to watch and harder still to
forget, yet Nanking is a must see.

Juan Antonio Bayona,
a young and talented Spanish director has received
much critical acclaim for his latest work, The
Orphanage. A film, so creepy and well told,
that genius film maker Guillermo del Toro, most
noted for last year’s Pan’s Labyrinth,
believed in the script, signing on as Producer.
The incredible merit this film has received speaks
to each aspect of the film: the acting, directing,
pace, and tasteful elements of gore.

While I would agree
that The Orphanage aims high and attempts
to deviate from the same tired-over the top thriller,
it falls short. This film’s praise is more
a sign of the lack of top notch films made in
this genre, than its actual excellence. Yes it’s
a good film. Yes it’s entertaining. But
no, it is not one that left me speechless or stunned
or in tears, as some of the other reviews have
stated. It is a thoughtful film and for this reason
alone it is already set apart and on a different
level than most scary films made today.

The Orphanage
begins at a sprawling, country-side estate. Orphans,
dressed in uniform, play tag. Fast forward thirty
years and the main character, Laura, played by
Belen Rueda, returns to the orphanage of her childhood
with her husband Carlos (Fernando Cayo) and son
Simon (Roger Princep). Laura hopes to renovate
the old house and turn it into a home for disabled
children. Yet from the beginning, strange things
happen: the house groans and creaks in the night,
her son makes imaginary friends to plays with,
and a late-night visit from a so-called social
worker. All, come to a head on the day of her
school’s opening. Simon’s anger at
his mother’s diverted attention culminates
in a fight—and later, his disappearance.
The next several months Laura and Carlos remain
in the large house, awaiting their son’s
return. Before Laura can learn the truth of her
son’s whereabouts she must first confront
her tragic past.

The ending comes
together flawlessly, if a bit quickly. It does
so in a way that shows the love between a parent
and child. The film takes its time with Simon’s
disappearance and his parent’s anguish yet
the conclusion, while wonderful, is wrapped up
too fast. The Orphanage is definitely
worth watching as it attempts to do what so many
other thrillers have forgotten.

A film about angst
and rebellion under the thumb of an oppressive
Islamist regime may, at first glance, seem like
unlikely holiday movie-going fare. Nevertheless,
tales of the resiliency of the human spirit and
the triumph of rebellion and dignity in the most
of trying of political circumstances are very
much in keeping with the greatest story every
told. With that in mind, there's no better way
to keep the seasonal joie de vivre going than
by checking out Persepolis, the visually
arresting, earthy and affecting animated film
adapted form Iranian author Marjane Satrapi's
intensely personal graphic novels.

The film's narrative
spans the course of both books; beginning with
the young Marjane witnessing the fall of the Shah
and the rise of the Islamist revolution, following
her to school in Vienna then back home to Tehran
and finally off to Paris to begin a new life as
an artist.

As graphically
striking as Satrapi's print illustrations are,
the live animation gives the story a new vitality
and depth. Shaded entirely in blacks, whites,
and greys, the illustrations and images manage
to convey a wide variety of emotions: the warm
and homey feel of Marjane's close-knit family,
the eerie and magical depictions of young Marjane's
fantasy world, the traditional Persian aesthetic
of the segments that explain Iranian history,
the neo-noir punk feel of Marjane's sojourn in
Vienna, and the bleak, ominous look of the scenes
of political protest and rebellion. The visual
complexity of Persepolis is truly dazzling;
it looks unlike any film you've ever seen.

As much as the
narrative of Persepolis is inexorably
entwined with the history of modern Iran, it really
is a much more universal story – that of
a smart, tough, rebellious girl struggling to
come into her own when all the weight of circumstance
and society are fighting against her. One of the
great delights of seeing the story on celluloid
is that the character of Marjane (voiced by Gabrielle
Lopes Benites as a girl and by Chiara Mastroianni
as a teenager and adult) really comes to life.
To see the character develop from a fearless kung-fu-loving
young badass to a moody and an outraged teen and
finally a defiant, self-confident woman is heartrendingly
real. The superb cast of powerful, memorable characters
is rounded off by Marjane's formidable and supportive
parents (voiced Simon Akbarian and Mastroianni's
real-life mother, Catherine Deneuve), and her
doting but gutsy grandma (the incomparable Danielle
Darrieux).

In this day and
age, when oppressive regimes stamp out personal
freedoms across the globe, Persepolis
is an empowering call to arms; a strong reminder
that the human desire for liberty can thrive under
the most difficult circumstances. A more inspiring
Christmas message would be difficult to find.

Brian De Palma’s Redacted
Opens November 16, 2007

Reviewed
by Alejandra Serret

With movies like
Carrie, Scarface, The Untouchables,
Carlito’s Way, and Mission
Impossible on his resume, Brian De Palma
has successfully explored varying film genres.
In 1989, he directed the controversial film Casualties
of War, starring Michael J. Fox and Sean
Penn, based on the Vietnam War and how it affected
both civilians and soldiers.

Decades later he’s at it again with his
most recent work Redacted: same argument,
different war. With other politically charged
films currently circulating the cinemas (i.e.
Lions for Lambs and Rendition) Redacted
is most electrifying and twice as effective, not
only in message, but in delivery and vision. While
De Palma explores the devastating consequences
of the Iraq War, he does so through the examination
of news coverage. How is the news filtered? How
does it affect our perception of issues and events?
How is it shaped in order to create a desired
reaction?

To redact footage,
is to edit it for publishing. “Redacted
is often used to describe documents or images
from which sensitive information has been expunged,”
says De Palma. “The true story of our Iraq
War has been redacted from the Main Stream Corporate
Media. If we are going to cause such disorder
then we must face the horrendous images that are
the consequences of these actions.” In order
to convey redaction, De Palma centers the film
on a 14-year-old Iraqi girl’s brutal rape
and death and of her family’s slaughter
at the hands of US soldiers. He tells the same
incident through three different lenses: a US
soldier who videotapes everything in hopes of
going to film school, and the American and Iraqi
media.

The same event,
once redacted, becomes three different incidents,
seemingly unrelated. He jumps from one point of
view to another with a mastered fluidity that
avoids interruption. Instead, the constant movement
depicts deep contrasts, adding to the central
theme. De Palma allows the riveting documentary
style footage to speak for itself, holding back
when necessary. He shows the ripple effect this
incident has on so many people—the victim
and her family, the soldiers and their families.

De Palma closes
the film with photographs of the Iraq War: images
of wounded children being held by crying parents,
dead civilians lying in the streets amongst rubble.
He ends with silence and a montage of horrifying
shots. His redaction is a point of view not yet
given by the American mainstream media and is
one that is impossible to expel.

Filmgoers who feared
that Francis Ford Coppola had, like Kurtz in Copolla’s
Apocalypse Now, gotten forever lost in
the jungle (or, that matter, in a vat of Merlot),
will have much to rejoice about in Youth Without
Youth, his first feature in ten years. Best
summarized as a freewheeling metaphysical examination
of love, mortality and linguistics (yes, linguistics),
Youth is an ambitious, baffling and ultimately
exhilarating, provocative film.

Adapted from the
novel by Romanian intellectual and mind-bender
Mircea Eliade, Youth tells the story
of washed-up and embittered linguist Dominic Matei
(Tim Roth). Depressed at the imminent threat of
Nazi occupation – the film begins in Bucharest
in 1938 – as well as his lack of progress
on his history of language, Matei is on the verge
of suicide when an errant lighting bolt causes
a bizarre transformation that leaves him thirty
years younger.

Matei is energized
by the possibility of a new lease on life (not
to mention an amped-up sex life), but many others
are also interested in his miraculous transformation,
including his doctor (the reliably superb Bruno
Ganz), a sexy and deliciously loony young Nazi
(Alexandra Pirici), and an American agent played
by a smooth-faced young chippy most recently seen
as a man with an Identity crisis (Matt
Damon).

Eager to escape
all this heat, Matei makes for the Swiss alps,
where he encounters Veronica (the lovely and dynamic
Alexandra Maria Lara) who may be the reincarnation
of our hero's long-lost love and who, thanks to
her own encounter with lightning, has a funny
habit of speaking in ancient languages while serving
as a conduit for spirits from ages past. The rest
of the film follows Matei on a journey through
Malta and India and, ultimately through time.

The climax is
a bit far-fetched, and it's possible that Coppola
bit off a bit more than the film could chew. Nevertheless,
as my mind was completely blown by the conclusion,
I couldn't help but be grateful that Coppola threw
restraint to the wind and didn't end up making
a more modest – but ultimately more boring
– movie.

The metaphysical
plot twists are certainly difficult to decipher,
but there's something incredibly liberating about
Coppola's decision to let the viewer revel in
her own confusion, letting her mind wander over
the various philosophical implications of Matei's
strange voyage of the soul. Seductive photography
by Romanian cinematographer Mihai Malaimare Jr.
and precise work by Coppola's long-time collaborator
and editor Walter Murch emphasize the audience's
dizzying disorientation.

In the end,
Youth Without Youth is a passionate and
deeply personal exploration of human anxiety,
one that made me hope that the director, like
his protagonist, has gotten a second chance.